


Friday Night

by Ceruleanblues00



Category: The Vampire Diaries
Genre: Caroline is a book editor, F/M, Klaroline, Klaus is an illustrator, Klaus tries to be a helpful friend, Weekly movie nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceruleanblues00/pseuds/Ceruleanblues00
Summary: AU. "I can show you," he purred in her ear. "If you want."





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is another repost from FF, but one that I had thoroughly enjoyed writing, nonetheless.
> 
> xXx  
> CeruleanBlues

Caroline Forbes heaved a tired sigh and rubbed at the strain in her cornflower blue eyes before checking the time. Glancing back down at the manuscript in her hands, she realized that she was barely halfway through and groaned, conceding to the fact that the rest of her weekend would be completely spent working on the monstrosity. 

Well, it wasn’t the first time, anyway. Honestly, she ought to expect such inconsistencies coming into the job, especially one with a cutthroat boss such as Katherine Pierce, but she wasn’t above admitting to the fact that she thoroughly enjoyed being a subeditor of one of New York’s top publishing houses. Although the hours were mercurial at best, Caroline found that she didn’t mind it too much. A quick scan around the floor indicated that she was once again the only soul without a life on a Friday evening.

Good thing she wasn’t alone in that aspect.

After straightening out her space and slipping the thick stack of papers into her satchel, she switched off the small table lamp and headed for the lift lobby. She punched the button to take her up to the next floor, and as the door slid open to the art department, Caroline was already contemplating between the Thai spring rolls and the Kung Pao chicken, both of which sounded brilliant to her growling stomach.

There was only one cubicle still lit up, its occupant visibly engrossed and oblivious to her presence. Niklaus Mikaelson—or Klaus for short—was a book cover illustrator. Hunched over his pen tablet and hastily scribbling away on his stylus, with a pair of headphones slung around his neck blasting rock music, he seemed to be finishing up on a vicious-looking wolf. A spectrum of visual references littered the entirety of his desk with Copic markers and colored pencils scattered about.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the clutter, her fingers itching to do something about it, but she knew from countless arguments prior that he much preferred his work area that way—in complete disarray, in an organized mess that only ever made sense to him—and leaned over to prop her chin on his shoulder. Startled, he flinched for a split second, and then relaxed when he realized it was just her. The corner of his full lips twitched into his trademark smirk as he craned his neck around to drop a quick peck to her cheek.

“Hey,” she whispered in his ear, placing her hands on the backrest of his swivel chair. “You done for the day?”

“Hello, love,” he drawled, and the silky lilt of his British accent never failed to send her pulse racing or set her loins on fire. It was fairly inconvenient, that, and it didn’t help that he was so roguishly attractive with those dirty blonde curls, stunning blue eyes, and a pair of dimples beneath all that sexy scruff. More than a handful of times, Caroline had to physically refrain herself from jumping his bones; constantly toeing the precipice of insanity as she reminded herself that they were just friends and a night of utterly amazing sex wasn’t worth jeopardizing that. Then again, his personal boundaries seemed to completely disappear when they were together, and she wondered if one could spontaneously combust from pure frustration. “Just a little more. Let me save this first and then we can leave.”

**I don't wanna be your Monday morning heading back to work**  
**Stuck in traffic going slow, nothing on the radio**  
**I don't wanna be another chore to check off on your list**  
**Of things you gotta do and places that you gotta go**  
**Oh no**

“Alright,” she nodded, watching as he expertly navigated the million-and-one functions in the program before shutting down the computer. “Are you re-illustrating Jacob from _Twilight_?”

He glowered at her. “Oh, please,” he scoffed. “No amount of pretty illustrations could save that abomination. What I’m working on is called a hybrid.”

“What’s a hybrid?” she asked.

“Half werewolf, half vampire.”

Caroline reckoned it was probably one of those stories that Stefan Salvatore had tried to narrate to her about that she really wasn’t interested in. Fantasy and mythology was a whole other level of fiction that she wouldn’t ever comprehend; there were too much terminology and fact checking involved. “Okay, then.”

“What are we having tonight?”

It became more of a habit than a ritual that three or four nights a week, they would crash at each other’s places for movie marathons. Caroline couldn’t remember when it had begun, but then it quickly caught on from something they did every Wednesdays—because that was usually when shit would start to happen at work and they would need to blow off some steam—to something they did just for the heck of it.

“I was thinking Thai or Chinese,” she mulled, mentally weighing each pro and con because she was neurotic like that. “But now that I think of it, didn’t we have Thai on Monday and Chinese on Wednesday?”

“Yes, we did,” he confirmed, haphazardly shuffling his stuff about and throwing his sketchbook and hard drive into his messenger bag. “You force-fed me that egg roll after drowning it in too much soy sauce.”

Caroline grimaced apologetically at the memory, but huffed when she saw that he was just trying to ruffle her up. “I can’t help it that I’m not as adept in using a pair of chopsticks as you are, Mr. I-Was-In-Shanghai-For-Three-Months.”

He arched an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, I did offer you a fork, sweetheart.”

“It wouldn’t be authentic, now, would it?” she retorted.

“It’s Chinese take-out from a dive down the block,” he pointed out sardonically. “There’s nothing authentic about that in the first place.”

Sometimes, she enjoyed their back and forth banter far too much, or perhaps she just liked hearing the sound of his voice. “You can’t eat Lo Mein with a fork, Klaus.”

“Let me consult the book of appropriate eating utensils and get back to you on that.”

He always had something witty to say, didn’t he? “Shut up,” she muttered, miffed that for someone whose career revolved around words, she was constantly at a loss for them when she was with him.

**I wanna be your Friday night sweet ride**  
**Summertime sunshine barefoot in the moonlight**  
**I wanna be your jackpot hot spot**  
**Wide open road in a candy apple rag top**

Sensing that she was mildly upset, he wrapped his deceptively strong arm around her waist and pulled her closer, tucking her snugly to his side. “Oh, don’t be like that, love.” His finger twirled around a lock of her hair, giving it a playful tug. “You know how I can’t stand seeing your gorgeous face in a pout.”

Her resolved crumbled like it always did when he was being so damn charming, and involuntarily, her frown melted. “Just to be clear, I’m much too smart to be seduced by you, Niklaus Mkaelson.”

“Well, that’s why I like you.”

**I wanna set you free**  
**I wanna take you high**  
**I wanna be, wanna be your Friday night**

 

They ended up getting some curry and Indian roti after an extensive debate between tacos and pizza, which, in itself ought to explain the random nature of their friendship. The day of their first meeting, Klaus had been trying to bribe Stefan into taking his sister, Rebekah, to her company’s annual ball, and Caroline had sort of scurried past them looking harassed with a strip of toilet paper stuck beneath the sole of her ballet flats. If she hadn’t started rambling and ranting about her boss’s absurd requests to the other subeditor, fuming and wildly flailing her hands in the air, Klaus wouldn’t have found it endearing enough to get to know her better.

“I hope you’re not planning on watching another trilogy again,” she teased as they unpacked their food and settled in the living room of his apartment.

Klaus padded over to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and a six-pack from the fridge. “I tolerated that insufferable Nicholas Sparks marathon you insisted on watching the other day,” he reminded her with a hint of bitterness. “I think I deserve a bit of payback after that ordeal.”

“Hey, you actually enjoyed _The Notebook_ ,” she quipped back and took a gulp of the Heineken. It was the only beer in the world that Klaus would drink—he much preferred a single malt scotch—and although Caroline would rather take a Bud Light or a Corona, she reckoned she couldn’t complain anyway. “And don’t think I didn’t see you tear up during that one scene in _A Walk to Remember_.”

He glared at her while scooping a helping of the curry onto his plate. “I had something in my eye.”

“Yeah, tears.”

“Just for that, I think I’m pulling out _The Lord of the Rings_.”

Caroline groaned as she tore a piece of the bread. “Seriously? That’s like eleven hours!”

“Tell you what,” he said, leaning forward so that their noses were barely inches apart, and suddenly the hunk of food seemed to lodge itself in her throat when his musky scent overwhelmed her senses. “I’ll let you pick just two for us to watch.”

“That’s still seven hours, Klaus,” she protested. “At some point in time, I’ll need to return home to sleep.”

“You’re not staying?”

**We can rock together, let the good times roll forever**  
**Fill up our cup make a memory, drink it up**

She hadn’t slept over since the one time they both got a bit too drunk and she had ended up dozing on his couch. The next morning, she had found herself on his bed with half of her body draped over his; her socks and shoes discarded, and clad in one of his T-shirt and shorts. If Caroline was being truthful, it had been one of the most comfortable nights in her life, but mortification had won over and before he could wake up, she had stealthily seen herself out of the door.

“I can’t,” she said apologetically. “Katherine’s given me a manuscript the thickness of a dictionary and I need to finish editing it by Monday.”

“Oh, come on, that’s no excuse, love. You’ll still have tomorrow and the whole of Sunday.”

“Yes, but if I were to stay over, I’d spend half of my Saturday catching up on my sleep, so no, Klaus, just one movie tonight.”

“Sweetheart, that’s hardly—” he stalled when she shot him a challenging look. Knowing that he was obviously on the losing end, Klaus released a long exhale. “Fine. But we’re watching _The Return of the King_ , special extended Blu-Ray edition, no questions asked.”

Fucking hell, the running time for that movie was four and a half hours long.

Still, Caroline was nothing if not resilient.

“Fine.”

**I don't wanna miss another minute, wanna live it with you**  
**'Neath the blue sky fallin' in love**

 

Halfway into the movie, Caroline grew drowsy from the combination of a hearty meal, two bottles of beer and a hundred and forty minutes of Sauron the Deceiver trying to conquer Middle-earth. They had moved the coffee table out of the way to create space for a cozy makeshift bed consisting of a duvet, a blanket, two pillows and a heap of cushions; both lying on their fronts next to each other and sharing a bowl of popcorn, but she was slowly drifting off.

“Oh, God,” she grumbled. “Can Aragorn just win already?”

Klaus chuckled, reaching for another kernel to pop into his mouth. “Patience, love. You’ve got to let the story build before the epic battle.”

He was such a geek.

“That’s not for another hour or so.”

“Okay, alright then, why don’t we have a little chat while we wait for that to happen?” he suggested, shuffling his body closer. “Talk to me, Caroline. How’s your day been?”

**I wanna be your Friday night sweet ride**  
**Summertime sunshine barefoot in the moonlight**  
**I wanna be your jackpot hot spot**  
**Wide open road in a candy apple rag top**

She shrugged. “Same as the day before, I suppose. Katherine’s constantly up in my ass with her impossible deadlines, and then there’s this writer who still can’t decide on a title for her book, and oh, wait; hang on, I just have to tell you about this manuscript that I’m editing. It’s just ridiculous, which I guess is probably why Katherine’s pushing it to me to work on as a joke. I swear, most days I think she just hates my guts.”

“What’s the story about?”

Caroline turned to properly face him. “Have you read _Fifty Shades of Grey_?”

“I am proud to say that I have not,” he replied, his face pinching with disdain. “Rebekah, however, has been raving about it recently, and I don’t remember her ever putting it down the first few days that she bought it.”

“Well, let’s just say that this is ten times worse, with atrocious grammar and dull but rather descriptive vocabulary, and not to mention just paragraphs upon paragraphs of run-on sentences, bad punctuation, and a non-existent plotline. It’s just chapter after chapter after chapter of explicit kinky sex, like straight-up hardcore pornography, complete with leather and handcuffs and role-playing—some of which I’m not sure are even accurate or remotely physically possible—and I have a nagging feeling that Katherine only picked it up to get a rise out of me. I don’t think we’re even really publishing that piece of crap.”

Klaus burst out in guffaws.

“It’s not funny!”

“I know, I know,” he managed between his attempts at keeping a straight face, and failing miserably.

“Then stop laughing.”

He clamped his mouth shut with a click, though his amusement was still apparent from the twinkle in his eyes and the two dimples that he couldn’t quite conceal.

**I wanna set you free**  
**I wanna take you high**  
**I wanna be, wanna be your Friday night**

“My life sucks,” she mumbled rather pitifully.

“Can I read it?”

She chewed on a morsel of the buttered snack. “Read what?”

“The manuscript,” he smoothly replied, but Caroline knew better than to trust the nonchalance in his tone, or the familiar hint of cheekiness lacing in his voice.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she asked, “why?”

Klaus was positively smug about it now. “Well, love, you did mention something about the credibility of certain scenes, didn’t you? What better way to do so than to ask for a man’s opinion, i.e. mine?”

“Why?”

“You can keep asking me the same question—” He did that thing that he enjoyed so much; invading her personal space, breathing into her air in that unprecedented way that had her heart pattering like a machine gun. “Or you can find out.”

**I wanna be your lemonade in the shade**  
**Money in your pocket cause you just got paid babe**

She held his stare unyieldingly, her chin jutting out in defiance. They were both equally headstrong, both refusing to be the first to back down, however, she seemed to possess that extra innate need to prove people wrong. Alas, he was absolutely right on that account, and curiosity was a dangerous thing to Caroline, whose life’s mission—deeply ingrained in her very essence—was to know about everything and everyone.

“Fine.”

Reaching over, she blindly rifled about in her bag for a moment before producing a stack of papers, held together by a large clip at the top right corner. She slapped it in front of Klaus, who simpered as he rubbed his palms together. 

“Go to page twenty-three,” she instructed off-handedly.

He didn’t need to be told twice, practically ripping through the document to locate the page. It was filled with markings and post-it notes, and Caroline wondered if he could even decipher anything past all her scribbles, but Klaus had gone quiet. Any minute now, she would expect him to erupt in stitches and mock the flapdoodle of vulgar phrases, probably joining her in making a parody out of the writing, but when enough time passed for him to read the page twice, three times over, she became slightly wary of his silence.

“Well…?” she prompted. “That’s physically impossible, right? Like, where would she put her leg, and can a person bend that far, really? Do you have to be some sort of contortionist?”

His gaze, when he met hers, was more than thoughtful, and it was enough to make her nervous.

“This idiot wrote it wrong,” he said with a tiny smirk. “The idea is there, but the technique can surely be improved.”

“What?” Snatching the manuscript from his hands, Caroline did a quick scan of the very long paragraph and scrunched her nose, perplexed. “Really?”

“It’s not accurate only because it’s sort of written in a woman’s perspective, but in a guy’s point of view, though, it’s slightly different; so really, this is actually pretty doable.”

She failed to see how. “Okay, seriously?”

“I can show you,” he shrugged. “If you want.”

Was he drunk? Secretly smoking something while she wasn’t looking? Had he gone fucking mental?

Suggestive flirtations and unnecessary bodily contact aside, their friendship had always been a healthy mix of casual acquaintances, to prank sidekicks, to dependable allies, to two people who genuinely cared for each other. Although the unresolved sexual tension had always been an underlying controversy that neither of them dared to breech, both she and Klaus were vigilantly careful to avoid putting themselves in compromising positions that might jeopardize that.

So why was he poking at it right now?

“Wha—what?”

Maybe all of her wishful thinking had her hearing things.

The shit-eating grin on his face spoke otherwise. “I can show you.”

**I wanna be your Friday night sweet ride**  
**Summertime sunshine barefoot in the moonlight**

There were only a handful of times that Caroline had been truly struck speechless, and she was aware of how dumb she probably looked just gaping at him as though he had just grown an extra head, but hallucination shouldn’t be a side effect of two bottles of beer. It had to be a joke; one of his deeply twisted humor.

So Caroline did the first thing that came to her mind: she burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God, you almost had me there, Klaus,” she wheezed between gasps of air, tears pooling in her eyes. “That’s a good one.”

“I’m not joking.”

**I wanna be your jackpot hot spot**  
**Wide open road in a candy apple rag top**

If she didn’t know that he had a really convincing poker face—proven from the numerous occasions that she had lost significant amounts of money—she would think that he was fucking with her just to fuck with her.

Not fuck her.

“No, I get it,” she sputtered, gathering her composure. “It’s quite hilarious, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m. Not. Joking,” he repeated through gritted teeth, his face slipping into a scowl.

“Okay, you can stop now. I know—”

He tackled her to the ground, throwing her off guard whilst effectively shutting her up, and before she could find her bearings, he had pinned her down. His firm body pressed deliciously against hers, emanating heat straight down to her belly. Taking her wrists in his powerful grasp, Klaus brought them over her head. For a sinewy guy who loathed going to the gym, he was deceptively strong. Caroline felt her breath hitch in her throat when he leaned in and seductively traced a line down the curve of her jaw with the tip of his nose.

“I can show you,” he purred in her ear. “If you want.”

Did that needy sound belong to her?

Caroline attempted to wriggle out of his hold before she could do something really stupid—like kiss him senseless—but the movement caused a low growl rumbling in his chest when she unintentionally rubbed her front against the hardened bulge growing in his jeans.

“Would you like me to show you, Caroline?”

It ought to be illegal, the way her name rolled off his tongue like liquid honey, laced with unbridled lust as he immobilized her with his smoldering stare. A shiver ran down her spine; endless nights of imagining how it would feel to be on the receiving end of his desires now playing in real time. His supple lips hovered millimeters from hers; tempting her, taunting her, daring her with wicked unspoken promises.

“I’m waiting, love.”

Well, fuck it.

She inhaled shakily. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Temporary insanity; it had to be.

“Yes, I’d like you to show me,” she husked in reply.

His blue eyes flashed something primal, almost predatory, and before she could make another sound, his mouth came down ardently on hers, kissing her long and deep with so sexual a cadence, Caroline felt her head spin. An onslaught of arousal poured through her veins, making her shiver in delight. Her lips yielded to the bold intrusion of his tongue as he sought to explore every cave and crevice. He tasted of beer and popcorn and a hint of curry, and something so uniquely Klaus, that she couldn’t help but drown in its flavor.

“Klaus…”

“Caroline, I—”

“I need to touch you,” she rasped out, arching her back desperately for more contact.

With a strangled moan, he released the iron grip on her wrist and trailed his hands down the length of her arms. One settled on the nape of her neck while the other ventured further south and landed on the swell of her hip. Free from the arrest, her fingers instinctively burrowed themselves in his soft curls, her nails scratching against his scalp as she nuzzled the crook underneath his jaw and placed open-mouth kisses down his throat to lave at the dip of his clavicle.

“Bloody hell, love,” he groaned.

She nibbled on his earlobe and dipped between them to clutch at the hem of his Henley. “I thought you were going to show me, Klaus.”

**I wanna set you free**  
**I wanna take you high**

He withdrew, sitting back on his haunches, and instantly, Caroline missed the scorching heat of his flesh. Striking blue eyes bore down on hers, drinking her in as he took his shirt off in one swift move before carelessly tossing the fabric aside. The first thing she noticed was the spread of ink on his bicep—a tattoo of a feather that dispersed into small birds—and it had always been such a beautiful piece of artwork; had always thought so since the first time he had showed it to her. Tentatively, she reached out to chart the intricate lines. Her gaze then fell to the defined muscles of his pectorals, feeling the bumps and ridges jump and quiver beneath her fingers, and he sucked in a sharp inhale of air when she circled the button of his jeans. Gnawing on her bottom lip, Caroline popped it open and gingerly lowered the zipper where his manhood was straining against its confines.

“No,” he grated out, stopping her before she could take it a step further. “I believe that wasn’t how it was written in the story.”

She pouted. “Can’t I go off-script?”

His smirk was positively filthy. “Didn’t you mention something about accuracies, sweetheart?”

“Fuck accuracies.”

In a blink, he had rolled them over so that she was now straddling his tapered hips with both her palms braced against the wide expanse of his chest, pressing her core down on him in a way that made him hiss.

“Oh, this seems familiar,” she coyly remarked. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s the position Candice found herself in when she fell from the tree and onto Joseph.”

Klaus gave her a wink. “I was going to show you, wasn’t I? Now,” he toyed with strap of her camisole. “Take your top off, love.”

She did so without question, taking her own sweet time peeling the piece of clothing off, leaving her clad in a lacy black bra. “What, no cheesy pick-up line, Joseph?” she teased when all he seemed capable of doing was gawk at her covered breasts.

“Merely semantics, Candice,” he quipped back, playing along as he slid his hands underneath the waistband of her tights. Leisurely, he eased the material over the slope of her rounded mounds and down the length of her legs.

She lifted her derriere to help in his ministrations. “What about the accuracies?”

“Fuck accuracies.”

“My, my, my, how the tables have turned,” she crooned, inching her thumbs under his boxers to draw patterns across his hipbones. He squirmed at her touch, and Caroline ground down on him, stilling his attempts. “Nuh-uh. You talked a pretty big game earlier, Klaus Mikaelson, and now, you’re going to have to prove it.”

Goading his ego was a sneaky tactic, but it had worked to her benefit time and again, and this was no exception. Taking the bait, Klaus let out a low growl and tightened his hold around her. He jerked to an upright position, his fingers flexing against the milky flesh of her smooth globes, and before she could utter another witty remark, he had her once again flat on her back, seizing her lips and swallowing her squeak of surprise. His evocative kisses fueled her already flaming need for him, and Caroline raked her fingernails down the side of his torso, panting in the nook of his jaw. She scrambled to get his jeans off, shoving impatiently at the denim and grumbling when it failed to cooperate.

This was so not how it was in the story.

The heroine certainly hadn’t been a bumbling mess, overruled by her own libido.

“Love,” he chuckled, tenderly stroking her cheek. “Here, let me.”

“Underwear too.”

His erection sprang free and Caroline caught herself unashamedly ogling his impressive package, her fingers twitching from the sudden impulse to wrap themselves around all that he had to offer. Completely naked now, Klaus positioned his knee between her thighs, the tip of his manhood bumping and brushing against her groin, and snaked one hand up her spine to unclasp the hook of her bra. The cool air hit her flushed skin as he rid her of the flimsy material, and her rosy nipples instantly puckered at his sinful stare. Eagerly, he descended on one, greedily laving and suckling, worshipping her into a writhing mess.

“Oh, God…” she breathed, sinking her fingers into his soft curls. “Shit, Klaus…”

In one fell swoop, he yanked the last piece of barrier between them, leaving her completely bare and yearning for more. “You were a cheerleader once, weren’t you, Caroline?”

**I wanna be, wanna be your Friday night**

She couldn’t remember ever telling him that, but then again, she couldn’t remember anything at the moment; not when he was slowly making a pilgrimage of languid kisses below her ribcage to the flat of her stomach. His tongue swirled around her navel, and Caroline could feel the zing of pleasure all the way down to her toes.

“Love?”

Right.

She hadn’t answered him yet.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Cheer captain, actually.”

Klaus lifted his eyes up to meet hers, a devilish smirk on his full lips. “Good. We can definitely use those flexibility skills to full use.”

“I might be a little out of shape.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

One finger ran up her slit, catching the moist evidence of her arousal, and Caroline jolted at the unexpected caress, moaning a second later when he found her sensitized bundle of nerves and thumbed it with renewed purpose. She thrashed against the blankets, the stimulation driving her to near madness if he didn’t hurry up and just take her already. As if sensing her urgency, Klaus introduced one digit, then two into her warm harbor and began a maddeningly slow rhythm, pushing and pulling to relieve some of the pent-up pressure throbbing in the heart of her femininity.

“You ready, love?”

She fought down the urge to rip him a new one, unable to comprehend his calm demeanor. “Can’t you tell, Niklaus?”

**Wanna be your Friday night**

Instead of replying, he drew up to his knees and brought his soiled fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean of her essence. She watched in rapt attention, eyes dark and pupils blown as he lapped up every since trace of her, humming in contentment, and damn it if it weren’t the sexiest thing she had ever seen or heard. Before she could spontaneously combust or go up in flames, Klaus had her by the back of her thighs and was dragging her towards him.

“Oh!” she gasped out loud when his velvety tip came in contact with her fleecy delta.

With wide hands splayed on the small of her back for support, Klaus hauled her up to mount his lap. Instinctively, her arms went around his neck, settling her weight more comfortably, but then his palms were cupping her underneath her arse and he was lifting her up. Planting her feet on the floor, she assisted in his efforts as he guided himself to the threshold of her dripping core. He paused to regard her one last time, eyes piercing blue and silently seeking her final permission. 

Caroline studied his handsome face, lost in the maelstrom of emotions flickering in his expressive blue eyes, and knew that what she was feeling for him couldn’t be put into words or phrases or sentences. She had written papers and read a surmountable array of books, but right that moment, the fragility between them wasn’t something she could properly describe, so she answered him in the only way she knew how.

She kissed him.

Fervently; with everything she had until she was sinking down onto his rigid shaft.

“Klaus!” she cried out.

He filled her to the hilt, stretching her inner muscles so exquisitely as he stilled beneath her to compose himself; his nose buried in the side of her neck, inhaling her in, and Caroline felt goosebumps appear where his lips brushed. She trembled as he pulsed, and a tiny shift caused identical groans to echo off the walls.

After what seemed like forever, he started to move. Leisurely, he led them into a steady climb, dictating the speed at which she rose and fell, and all she could do was to helplessly hang onto his sturdy frame and indulge in the waves of absolute ecstasy coursing through her veins. His hands wandered restlessly; teeth nipping, mouth ravishing, and then he was hooking her left leg and hoisting it over his shoulder, her foot pointing and flexing, ankle rolling as he placed a kiss to her calf.

“Come on, Caroline,” he grinned in anticipation, dimples flashing impishly. “Extend the other leg. Do a front split for me, I know you can. I’ve seen those cheerleading videos.”

“I’m going to kill your sister,” she muttered half-heartedly, her cheeks flushing from mild embarrassment.

“You’ll definitely be doing Kol a huge favor.”

She huffed. “Can we not talk about your ass of a brother, please?”

He gave her a punctuated thrust that left her dizzy. “As you wish, sweetheart. Shall we get to the _accuracies_ now?”

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Caroline did quick calculation in her head, trying to remember the moves from her high school days. The mechanics wasn’t difficult, but those were muscles that haven’t been warmed in a while, and she didn’t want to risk a pull or a tear, thank you very much. 

“Are you sure this was in the manuscript? It sure doesn’t look or sound like it.”

Klaus look tickled. “Trust me.”

She noticed the amusement twinkling in his eyes and knew that she wasn’t going to back down to his challenge; she was much too stubborn and proud for that. Resolute in her decision, Caroline hitched her heel higher up his trapezius, lifting herself just enough to slide her right leg to the back, effortlessly executing a perfect split.

“Shit…”

Her gaze snapped up at his hushed response, a mere exhale that accompanied the heat in his blue orbs, and she wondered if it would turn him on even more if she dusted that damn cheerleading uniform off from somewhere deep in her closet and perform a routine that she swore she couldn’t forget even if she tried.

“Is this it?” she asked thickly. “The position?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, then, are you just going to sit there and gawk at me or—”

Taking his cue, Klaus wrapped one arm around her thigh and planted the other hand on her waist, securing her balance. He pulled back then, and plunged in harder than before, the angle providing perfect leverage for him as he repeatedly hit the spots she never knew existed. Caroline was reduced to incoherent sobs and harsh whimpers; the monosyllable of his name was nothing more than puffs of air. He whispered mellifluous nothings in her ear, grunting hot against her feverish, pounding erratically in and out of her sleekness, chasing the release so within their reach, and she didn’t think it could get any better, except it did when he tilted his hips just so and drove impossibly deeper. She swore to the heavens, head thrown back, her walls clenching tightly around him as he stroked and coaxed her into submission.

“Oh, my God, Klaus…”

“Caroline…”

Each potent thrust brought her closer and closer to the summit until she couldn’t repress the mounting passion any longer and begged for him to finish her off. Acquiescing to her pleas, Klaus hastily hoisted her off his stiff member and laid her down on her back, spreading her for him before promptly claiming her once again. The tempest inside of her raged on, building on and on, soaring higher and higher until she could take no more and crashed with shudders down her spine and praises on her lips. He strained against her, pumping once, twice, three times, and exploded inside of her, murmuring sweet nothings into the side of her neck and collapsing over her thereafter. 

Sated and spent, they basked in the afterglow, their intertwined bodies bathed in the dim light from the credits now rolling on the television screen.

“Did that help?”

She lifted her eyelids and laughed. “That chapter definitely needs some major editing.”

The cheeky glint returned in his blue eyes. “Are there anymore inaccurate scenes that you need testing out?”

“Now that you mention it, I think there’s a paragraph in page fifteen that sounds a bit ridiculous. I doubt chocolate makes for a good lubrication.”

From the way his face lit up completely, one would think she was declaring Christmas the next day, and immediately, he scrambled to locate the forgotten manuscript. Caroline giggled at his antics, watching in humor as he flipped to the aforementioned page and read through it. A slow smile stretched across his handsome features.

**Friday night**

“Well, a fondue, huh?” he mused. “I can definitely work with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song used: “Friday Night” by Lady Antebellum


End file.
